Leaning up against the door frame,
I watched you finish your makeup.
Pausing for a moment with your mascara,
you caught my eye in the mirror…
and smiled.
How domestic, how nostalgic
this moment was.
Yes, that smile was so familiar
but it was only the specter
of one I held so much dearer,
and left, many years ago.
Pareidolia? Perhaps.
And I suspect you would laugh
at this pathetic confession
from a sentimental man
that just left you breathless and satisfied.
For what was sentimentality
to an emotional artist?
An artist so disconnected from her creations:
dissonant machinations
of commodified emotions.
You could paint a smile for any occasion.
You would be nostalgic for each lover.
Ah! And you never missed a chance to check your reflection.
– how I watched you practice in the glass.
So mesmerizing, so detached.
God, now I wonder,
for a girl that spent so much time
in front of the mirror,
did you find yourself so familiar?
Poetry by Adam Nevarez 